


Allergies

by levele3



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Allergies, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Mutual Pining, Platonic Relationships, Slice of Life, Sneezing, Vignette, takes place sometime before the end of the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 13:39:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19152154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levele3/pseuds/levele3
Summary: Crowley is quite certain he had never once in his almost 6000 years of existence had so much as a sniffle, but for some reason, today, of all the bloody days, he can’t stop sneezing.





	Allergies

**Author's Note:**

> Just a snippet of an idea I had to write out. I hope you enjoy it!

“Ahh-Choo.”

Crowley moans in malcontent, rubbing his aching nose. It was all red, and sore, and he had no idea why! You see, Crowley is quite certain he had never once in his almost 6000 years of existence had so much as a sniffle, but for some reason, today, of all the _bloody_ days, he can’t stop sneezing.    

Several more sneezes followed in quick succession and his eyes began to water, blurring his vision. The Bentley zigzags across several lanes of traffic, doing it’s usual ninety miles an hour. Pedestrians scream and motorist honk their horns, but Crowley only has one goal, get to Aziraphale.

Because if someone has, knowns, or can find a cure for whatever it is that is plaguing him, Crowley knows it’s the angel.

“All those _bloody_ books of his,” Crowley mumbles. 

The luck of the Devil must be with him, for when Crowley arrives at A.Z. Fell and Co. the little sign reads open.

***

Aziraphale doesn’t hear the bell above his shop door ring out but he does hear someone having a right bugger of a sneezing fit. He turns around, his frock-coat swishing out behind him, to see Crowley standing there, his face jammed into his elbow.

The words are on his lips, it’s an automatic response after all, “Bless” is all he gets out before Crowley is standing in front of him, one of his long fingers pressed to Aziraphale’s lips. The pointed manicured nail scratches at the edge of the angel’s nose. 

“Don’t you _dare_ finish that sentence,” Crowley snarls, “don’t even _think_ it. I’d be liable to break out into hives or something.”

A weak smile twitches Aziraphale’s lips.  

“Yes, blessing a demon, probably not a good thing,” he mumbles against Crowley’s finger. His corporeal form gives a shudder at the thought.  

***

An hour of hunting later and Crowley is still sneezing, and Azirahpale finally has a slip of the tongue.

“Bless you,” he says it without thinking.

And then realizing what it is he’s said, turns around, a horrified expression on his face. Terrified he may have just vanquished his, well, _not_ -friend, he immediately tries to apologize.

“I didn’t mean,” he stumbles and stutters, but Crowley is still standing there, a look of ‘I can’t believe you just said that’ on his face. But nothing happens.   

Crowley doesn’t burst into flames or melt into a pile of goo. He just stands there staring at the angel with a look of betrayal on his face, decidedly _not_ sneezing anymore. For a moment the look in his snake-like eyes could set whole cities aflame. But when, after several long minutes of silence, only broken by the ticking of his watch and a clock on the wall, Crowley still doesn’t sneeze, the murderous look dissipates, and a devilish grin breaks out across his face.

“I guess, being blessed by an angel _was_ the cure,” Crowley reasons. Unbelievable! 

“I guess so,” Aziraphale agrees.

“It’s a miracle,” Crowley throws his arms wide dramatically, and gives Aziraphale a smirk, the one that makes the angel’s knees go weak.

“Don’t mention it,” Aziraphale said, producing a tight, thin smile of his own. Adverting his gaze. An undertone of, _really_ , please don’t mention it _, ever again_ , in his words.

“Could I tempt you to some lunch?” Crowley asks, “in eh, gratitude?” 

They had decided a long time ago saying “thank you” to one other was probably a bad idea, but they had also discovered there was ways of saying it without actually _saying it_. 

“I’d be delighted,” Aziraphale agreed, “just let me” he stopped mid sentence, a look of almost pain and confusion crossed his face.

“Ahh-Choo” Aziraphale sneezed, covering Crowley’s glasses in angelic snot, which Crowley had just replaced on his face.

The sneeze had come on so quickly and Aziraphale had never experienced the sensation before, the though hadn’t occurred to his to cover his mouth and nose. 

Crowley crinkled his nose in mild disgust before snapping his fingers and making it all disappear.    

“Maybe a rain check then?” Crowley said, turning to leave.  

“What!” Aziraphale cried out, “you can’t -ahh-choo- leave me like this. Quick, -ahh-choo- bless me!”

The sneezing fit that followed was the most adorable thing Crowley ever witnessed and when at last it seemed Aziraphale was quite finished he murmured a begrudging, “Bless you, angel.”

The words made his forked tongue sting a bit, but he had endured worse for his angel. 

Like a night in 1941 when he had willing walked into a church to save the angel from himself.

And Crowley knew, deep down, that he would do it again. 

"Alright angel, what will it be?" Crowley asked holding the shop door open for Aziraphale. 

"You know I think I rather fancy having a slice of pizza." 

Crowley raised his eyebrows in surprise, pizza, that was new. 

"Alright then, after you," he encouraged, waving his hand toward the Bentley. 

*** 

A short time later saw them seated in a cozy little hole-in-the-wall pizza parlour.  

"Whose idea was it to put pineapple on pizza anyway?" Aziraphale asked, not disgusted, just curious. 

"I don't know honestly," Crowley admitted, "but I took credit for it." He shrugged.

He sank his fangs into the slice he was holding, piled high with pineapple, chucks of ham, bits of bacon, and thick juicy slices of jalapeno peppers. He didn't normally eat but he thought once in a while it wouldn't hurt. 

"Well, it's simply divine," Aziraphale said, taking a bite of his slice using a knife and fork to eat it, and pausing after every other bite to dab at his mouth with a napkin.   

Crowley simply shook his head at his angel. But the smile on his lips was one of fondness.  

"What ever would I do without you angel?" It was a rhetorical question, sure but neither of them liked to think about it too much. 

If one day they were to awake and one of them couldn't find the other.  

"Well then, it would simply be the end of the world," the angel said in his prim and proper way.

Little did they know then how right Aziraphale was.

But that was 13 years away, they had time.

 


End file.
